


Blunder

by reindeersidecar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Sex, nothing really explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeersidecar/pseuds/reindeersidecar
Summary: In which someone forgets to clear their browser history.





	

Angela shrugged on her lab coat and strode out of her office into the med bay, heels clacking against the floor. As much as she loved the work she did out in the field, part of her missed the simple things, the _mundane office_ things, that didn’t involve so much blood and suturing and resetting bones and battlefield amputations. She fantasized sometimes about what she would do after Overwatch, after her work here was done. The only idea that ever stuck was to open a small practice in Switzerland, to take care of families, their children, and those children’s children, while she aged and so did they, and she’d watch them grow.

Waiting for her on the examination bed was the familiar, straight-postured back of Fareeha Amari. The sight of her was a half-realization of that fantasy. She’d taken care of Ana, and she’d take care of her daughter, too. Better than she had Ana.

She walked around to stand in front of the soldier. She’d asked Jack yesterday to let her make sure everyone’s vaccinations were up to date, especially considering that almost no two agents hailed from the same corner of the world. That invited a kind of cross-contamination Angela was not willing to watch play out in the tight, confined spaces of Overwatch headquarters.

“Good morning, Dr. Ziegler,” Fareeha said with a pleasant smile. She was bright and wide-eyed. She’d no doubt woken up at 5am like she always did to jog around the track.

Angela, who’d gotten up no sooner than ten, was certain she herself looked an absolute wreck if the coffee rings she’d found on her reports this morning were anything to go by. She felt very conscious of her own disarray and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Guete morge, Fareeha. Sorry I’m late.”

Fareeha waved her off. “Only a few minutes.”

Angela checked the watch on the inside of her wrist. “Half an hour.” She glance up at Fareeha’s knowing grin and fixed her with a stern look. “Flattery isn’t going to get you out of this.”

Fareeha frowned at her. “I hate needles, Doctor,” she admitted.

Angela smiled and touched a hand to the woman’s broad shoulder as she strode by to the desk. “I know. You’re a big, strong soldier afraid of a tiny, little needle.” Fareeha had hated needles for as long as Angela had known her. She’d given many flu shots to the squirming, panicky girl when they were younger. It comforted Angela to learn that hadn’t changed about Fareeha, as if there weren’t all this lost time between them. “Let me check your records to see which vaccinations you need.”

She bent to see the monitor on the desk, moving the mouse to rouse the computer from its sleep. The screen flickered from blackness. Angela blinked. Once more. Again.

“Mein Gott….” Her eyes flashed across the screen. It was just a lot of _skin_. And then there were _sounds_ , positively lewd noises.

It was porn. Of them.

She heard Fareeha stumble off the table from beside her. “Ya salaam,” she gasped. She leaned over Angela’s shoulder. “What _is_ this?”

Angela moved her tongue in her mouth. She couldn’t find her words. Her eyes kept roving the screen helplessly, not wanting to linger in any one place. The actresses were wearing shoddy imitations of their battle armors. _Pharah_ presently had her—well, had Mercy—bent over a Route 66 diner table.

Fareeha cleared her throat behind her. “Dr. Ziegler, I didn’t think you the sort to watch this kind of thing—but I’m…flattered, I suppose….”

Angela covered her burning face. “Fareeha, I swear to you I wasn’t the one watching this. Someone must have used the computer last night.” She peeked through the spaces of her fingers. As much as she wanted to feign repulsion, she was _curious_ —curious about a number of things—namely how their bodies looked together—

She shook her head. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.” She opened the search history. The latest search terms were “bendoverwatch: mchanzo” and “vintage cowboy hat.” Angela pinched the bridge of her nose. “Schiesse, Jesse, I’m going to kill you…”

“ _Oh, Pharah,_ rain your _sweet justice_ on me,” moaned the Mercy actress in a dreadful Swiss accent.

Angela’s eyes flew open. “Oh my.” It was her professional, medical opinion that bodies didn’t _bend_ like that.

Fareeha cleared her throat again. “Wow, you’re really quite flexible—I mean, Mercy is—“ She gestured to the screen. “ _She_ is.”

Angela bit her tongue to keep herself from admitting she could be very flexible herself. _Why would Fareeha care about that?_ she chastised herself.

She was about to close out of the window when Pharah lifted Mercy up against the wall and ducked under her thighs. “Gott…could you really lift me like that?” she whispered.

She felt Fareeha straighten behind her. “I could.” Angela turned to her, seeing the woman in a new light. Pharah continued to grunt in the background, Mercy groaning shamelessly. Fareeha was perhaps even more flushed than Angela herself felt. “That is—I’m strong enough. I could lift you that high. Not to perform,” she cleared her throat a third time, eyes flickering past Angela’s head to look at the screen, “oral sex.”

Angela bit her lip, cheeks aching with stifled laughter. She felt positively mortified by the circumstances, but Fareeha’s own embarrassment was terribly amusing as she was always rather stoic, unfazed by even Angela’s attempts at subtle, harmless flirting. “Let’s turn this off, shall we?”  

 “Yes. Please.”

Angela clicked the tiny X in the corner. Fareeha’s whole body seemed to deflate. Angela collapsed into the office chair, a hand to her forehead. Images of Pharah and Mercy were absolutely seared into her brain.

“If it’s alright with you, Doctor,” Fareeha said, grabbing her jacket from the examination bed and slinging it over her shoulder, “perhaps we can postpone this.”

Angela smoothed her skirt in her lap and stood. “Of course, yes.” She gestured to the computer. “And sorry—about that.”

Fareeha chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck. “Don’t apologize, really. I just—I need to take a shower.” A cold one, Angela heard her mutter under her breath.

That sounded like an excellent idea to Angela as well.

**Author's Note:**

> ilili posed the idea that Overwatch agents probably have porn counterparts in their universe, so I wrote this embarrassing fic in response


End file.
